


Am I forgiven? (Soulmates Part 4)

by IarnaStrom



Series: Soulmates [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, Oral Sex, Slow Build, Soulless Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 08:40:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6367714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IarnaStrom/pseuds/IarnaStrom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emily struggles to reconcile the man Sam has become with the man she knows he can be.  In an effort to understand how deep the effects of whatever happened to him go, she reaches out to Dean against Sam's wishes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Am I forgiven? (Soulmates Part 4)

“Don’t you miss him, though?” Emily asked, sitting on the edge of the motel room bed as she ran a comb through her wet hair and looked at the display on her cell phone. The call timer ticked over to the five-minute mark beside a picture Sam had texted to her one night of him giving her his best seductive smirk with the reminder that he was looking forward to their next meeting. “He’s your brother.” 

“Of course I do,” Sam said, but even through the speaker phone his voice rang false. 

Emily shook her head in disappointment. It had been a little over a month since they’d gone their separate ways. Out of instinct, she’d either called or texted him almost daily to check in, but they kept their conversations brief. She could tell the difference between the man she’d fooled around with at Bobby’s and the heartless beast he was without her there to balance him out. She’d also started to notice how thin she felt, like a vital piece of her was being stretched almost to the breaking point without him near her. Her constant exhaustion and hunger were getting to the point where she’d reduced herself to gathering intel more often than actual hunting out of fear of being too slow on the draw. But, when a hunt brought her to Dean’s neck of the woods, she hadn’t been able to sit on her thumbs and her curiosity had started to burn. She’d call Sam as soon as she’d finished washing off the grime of sitting in her car for hours while she drove and asked him if Dean knew he was alive. Her heart had lurched in her chest when he’d simply said no. Worse yet was the indifference with which he told her he hadn’t seen the point in telling him. It wasn’t that Sam wanted his older brother to be happy. It was that he just didn’t care. 

“You need to tell him, Sam,” she said as she started braiding her wet brown hair into a thick plait down her back to just under her shoulder blade. 

“No, I don’t,” he said instantly, making her eyes narrow at his picture on the display. 

“If you don’t,” she said, “I will.” 

Her declaration earned her an angry growl that sounded tinny through the phone and she could picture the muscle in his strong jaw jumping as he ground his teeth together. He didn’t always like it when her defiant streak came out. Sometimes he thought it was adorable and would come up with all kinds of explicit ways to punish her for it when they got together again. Other times, it really got under his skin and he would refuse to speak to her for days at a time until she apologized for her disobedience. She knew, from the outsider’s perspective of someone who didn’t understand their dynamic, the hard facts of how they treated each other may have come across as borderline mental or emotional abuse. But the truth at the center of it was that she knew what she was doing when she pissed him off. She knew that the dominant nature that was ingrained in her hunter drove him to want to make sure she knew her place so he could keep her safe and take care of her in whatever way she needed. Her submissive nature allowed her to submit to his rule without question because she trusted him never to truly hurt her. She worshiped him more than she’d thought possible since he’d started to claim her properly, making her soul swell with the love she carried in his name. But she needed to push her boundaries with him as often as possible in order for them both to learn one another. By the laws of her people, they should have had over a decade to have established the intimate details that would govern their relationship. They had a lot of time to make up for. 

“I forbid you to tell him,” Sam said in a low tone that warned her that she should tread lightly or piss him off again. She could have taken the warning and cowed to him. Instead, she scoffed. 

“Forbid me?” she asked sarcastically. “Have we met?” 

“Don’t get defiant with me on this, little one,” he said firmly. “Remember who you belong to.” 

She let out a huff and sighed. As much as she hated to admit he was right about keeping Dean in the dark, she knew if the older Winchester found out his baby brother was alive he would leave the quaint little life he’d built for himself and throw himself head-first back into the fray with or without Sam. She was already exhausted as it was just trying to figure out what was wrong with her lover. If she had to worry about keeping them both alive while they hunted separately, she was liable to keel over. 

“I belong to you,” she said. 

“Good girl,” he said and she could hear his smirk. 

“Alright,” she said heavily, “I won’t tell Dean. But not because you’re acting like a testosterone slinging caveman. Truth is, I doubt he’d believe it coming from me anyway. He already thinks I’m batshit crazy as it is. Especially when it comes to you. But I still stand by my original statement. He’s your brother and, if you love him, you’ll, at least, tell him so he doesn’t have to carry that anguish with him for the rest of his life.” 

“Are you done?” Sam asked with a bored tone. 

“Yeah,” she said with a sigh and flopped back on the mattress, moving the phone so it rested on the pillow beside her head. “I’m done beating the dead horse.” 

“What are you wearing?” he asked, making her perk an eyebrow at the abrupt subject change. 

“Clothes,” she lied, adjusting the towel she still had wrapped around her torso. 

“Ditch ‘em,” he said and she rolled her eyes. “I want to picture you naked.” 

“I don’t actually have to be naked for that to happen,” she pointed out with a yawn. 

“Yes, but knowing you’re doing as you told turns me on,” he said with a purr. 

“Goodbye, Sam,” she said and grabbed the phone to hang up. Even with his deep, rumbling voice in her ear coaching her on, masturbation was just a tease that left her aching for him to be there worse than she already did. And she wasn’t in the mood to nurse a hellacious case of blue ovaries. 

“Don’t hang up on me, little one,” he said before she could do just that. “I want to hear the noises you make when you come.” 

“Oh, Sam,” she said in a deadpan tone. “Oh, gods. Right there. Don’t stop. Sam.” 

“You’re not funny,” he said tightly. 

“Really? I thought I was hilarious,” she said. 

“Keep being defiant and you’re going to get punished, little one,” he said, but she could hear the indulgent smirk in his voice. He was enjoying her being an ass. 

“You gonna come here and spank me, Master?” she asked, knowing she was just egging him on. 

“Don’t tempt me,” he said with a dark chuckle. “You’re really not going to give me what I want, are you?” he asked. 

“Not if it’s phone sex,” she said bluntly. “I’m exhausted and I need to try and get some sleep before I start trying to track down the Jinn in the area.” 

“The Jinn?” he asked with a new light in his voice. 

“Yeah, at least, I think they’re Jinn,” she said, fighting another yawn. “The patterns are weird, but it’s the closest creature fit to the M.O.” 

“What’s weird about the pattern?” he asked, all thoughts of their sexual deviancy abandoned for their true purpose as hunters. 

“They’re circling,” she said. “They’ve gotten a few people so far, but they aren’t dragging them off like they normally do. They’re hitting them with their hallucinogen and then letting them go. What’s even weirder is the fact that the victims don’t remember seeing the Jinn at all. I’m wondering if they’ve found a way to blend in. Either way, their hunting grounds have been closing in on Dean’s neighborhood which is why I’m here in the first place.” 

She listened to the sound of him muffling the phone with his shirt and speaking briefly to someone else. When he came back to her, he sounded too smooth. 

“Which motel are you in, little one?” he asked. “I want to drop in for a visit.” 

“Nice try, Darth Vader. This is my hunt and I’m not going to let you and your bald butt-monkey kick me off of it that easily,” she said and he chuckled. “Wait, were you really trying to get me to have phone sex with you while you were sitting next to someone else?” 

“No,” he lied. 

“Goodbye, Sam,” she said in response. “I love you.” 

“I know you do,” he said, just like he always did. “I’ll talk to you soon.” 

He hung up before she did and she blew out a breath. She’d been keeping tabs on the symptoms she’d managed to identify as far as Sam’s state was concerned and she added a disturbing lack of empathy to the pile with a groan. When they were together, he showed all the signs of being close to his old self again. But on the phone it seemed like the only things he was capable of feeling were lust and the need to dominate her. She could handle both easily. She knew that, even though she was willing to surrender to him, she had the power to say no and he would stop. But she wanted him to love her back. The idea that he was incapable of feeling that at all bad her chest ache. She knew, deep down, that he would always love his brother more than anyone else, including her, just by the things he’d done to keep Dean safe in the past. She didn’t want to replace or interfere with that at all. But she did want to be included in that sacred space in his heart he kept reserved for the most special people to touch his life. She knew he was concerned about her and that he cared about her, but she wasn’t sure if it came from a deeper place or if he just wanted to take care of her because she was his new toy. 

In spite of her exhaustion, Emily slid reluctantly from the bed and got dressed again. As much as she wanted to sleep, she knew it wouldn’t help. Instead, she pulled her journal out of her duffel and sat down at the small table in her room. She cracked the pages open to the place she’d been taking notes on Sam’s condition and then pulled a lore book out to set it above her journal. The words in the lore book jumped and shimmied as she looked at them, making her blink as her brain translated the Ancient Greek text scrawled on the papyrus pages that had been bound into a book by Clio, goddess muse of history. She’d borrowed the book from the muse herself after calling out to her for guidance in figuring out what was wrong with Sam. So far, the closest match she’d found to his symptoms were the Soulless Ones that suffered the stripping of their immortal souls at the hand of the goddess Psyche as punishment for their abuse of their soulmates. But, to Emily, that didn’t make sense. The wife of Eros, god of love, was notoriously kind and forgiving. The only time she’d employed the punishment of stripping a soul was when the crime committed was too heinous to address any other way. Even then, the only reason she stripped them of their souls in the first place was to allow it to find another vessel that would care for its mate properly. Psyche had yet to answer her prayers in an effort to ask the goddess directly if she knew what had happened to Sam, but Emily doubted she had a hand in it. Part of her wondered if she was just grasping at straws. For all she knew, being in Hell, if only briefly, could have changed Sam’s personality as it had hers and he was just acting like himself as the man he had become. But her instincts were screaming that something was wrong on a soul-deep level. She needed perspective on the man she’d fallen in love with all over again from someone who knew him better than anyone else. If she knew the kind of man he was before he went into the cage, she could judge the damage being in Hell had done to him. She needed to talk to Dean. 

It didn’t take long to track the older Winchester down in the sleepy slice of suburbia. Civilian life had established a routine that rarely varied from day to day. She found him at the construction site he was working on first and followed him to a little deli on Main St when he crew broke for lunch. She knew he wouldn’t have much time to talk before he had to get back to work, but she needed to get his side of the story before Sam tracked her down. She wasn’t stupid enough to think he couldn’t find her if he wanted to. He knew she was in Dean’s area and the town only had three motels within the hunter’s price range. All Sam had to do was drive around until he found her car. 

Taking a deep breath, Emily pushed her sunglasses up to the top of her head and entered the Deli, immediately finding Dean in a booth towards the back with a wall behind him. His focus was on the sandwich and fries piled on his plate until she slid into the booth across from him and leaned her elbows on the table. One look at her silver-blue eyes and he froze in shock as all of the color left his face. His mossy green eyes darted over her face like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, and he blinked hard. When he looked back at her, she raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t say a word. He shook his head and took a deep drink of his soda with an expression that told her he wished it was alcohol. 

“Have I finally lost my mind?” he asked, more to himself than to her. 

“You’re the one chasing a Norman Rockwell painting, so it’s possible,” she said. “But I’m really here,” she added and reached across the table to steal the dill pickle sitting on his plate. 

“How?” he asked breathlessly and nodded when she started to reach for a French fry and paused. “You were in Hell.” 

“So were you,” she pointed out. “And yet, you’re sitting here, too.” 

“I got yanked out by the short and curlies by an angel of the lord,” he said. “What’s your excuse?” 

“Judeo-Christian Heaven and Hell can’t hold me unless I choose to stay,” she said with a shrug. “After you were Air Mailed out of there, all I had to do was wait for a distraction to keep the jailers busy long enough for me to escape. If you and Sam hadn’t freed Lucifer from his cage when you did, Hades would have sent Cerberus in to stir up the Hellhounds as part of our deal.” 

“So what were you doing down there in the first place if you’d always planned on escaping?” he asked before an idea seemed to strike him. “Can you get Sam out of the cage?” 

“The cage is off limits to my pantheon,” she said honestly, skirting around the fact that planning a jailbreak was pointless anyway. “I can get in, but I’d be stuck the same as him with no exit strategy. Honestly, the only reason I was able to escape through Tartarus in the first place was because Hades booted my ass for not being dead.” 

“Huh?” he asked with a frown. 

“My thread was never cut, moron,” she said, rolling her eyes. For being such a genius when it came to lore, Dean really could be slow sometimes. “If it had been, I would have either gone to Tartarus or the Elysian Fields. Benefits of the bloodline.” 

“Then why were you in the Pit?” he asked as his brows pinched together in confusion. 

“I came in after you,” she said with a sigh. “The me that was on the rack was the real me. Flesh, bone, blood, and soul. I made a deal with Hades to smuggle me in over the border that butts up against the river Styx in an effort to get your soul out of Hell. It took longer than I thought it would because of your Freddy Kruger routine and the feather jockeys busted you out before I could, but, at least, you made it topside again.” 

“Why would you do that, though?” he asked, genuinely confused. “Yeah, we were friends, but I never thought,” he said and then paused when he saw the look on her face. “Sam. He asked you to get me out, didn’t he? He knew you were different and he used you to try and bust me out.” 

“Does that really sound like something he would do?” she asked, stealing another fry from his plate. 

“No,” he said with a heavy breath. “He’d never be that cold. But, then, why?” 

“You were half right,” she said with a shrug. “I did go after you for Sam, but not because he asked me to. Truth is, when I approached him after you died, he thought I was a demon. I don’t really blame him on that one, though. With as much time as I’d spent around them, I probably still smelled like Sulphur. But I couldn’t let him suffer the way he was without you. And, before you say anything, I am working on a way to get the Sam you know and love back. I’ve just hit a wall that’s taking time to chisel through. But I’ll figure it out. So relax.” 

Dean took a deep breath and nodded. 

“Thanks, Em,” he said. “Not looking for a way to get him out has been killing me. The only reason I haven’t or died trying is because he made me promise not to.” 

“I know, sugar,” she said, reaching across the table to pat his hand. He jumped a little when she touched him, but he seemed to relax and squeezed her hand back in thanks. 

“So, what are you doing here then?” he asked when she took her hand back. 

“Just checking up on you,” she said with a shrug. “I may not see you the same way I do your brother, but you’re still one of my favorite little shit-heads.” 

“Even after what I did to you?” he asked quietly and pushed his plate closer to her like he’d lost his appetite. 

“Sugar, what happened down there is in the past. Besides, Hell is a beast of different breed when it comes to the things souls will do when they’re exposed to that kind of environment,” she assured him. “And, when in Rome.” 

“I thought you were Greek,” he said with a frown that twitched as he fought to keep it in place against a smile. She smirked at him and threw a French fry at his head. 

It felt good to banter with Dean again. After Sam went to Stanford, they’d hunted together a few times and had become fairly close friends. They didn’t call each other to gossip or anything, but they could always link up on the road and pick up their friendship like no time had passed at all. The first time he’d seen her use one of the gifts she had been given by her mother, he’d been taken aback but he’d chosen to keep it under his hat out of respect. He treated her like she was just another person and that had been the best gift he could have given her. It also made it easy for her to read him. She’d managed to avoid telling him that Sam was upright and topside, but he’d given her the intel she needed. He was still himself. A little battle-worn and tired, but he was still Dean. And he’d said Sam would never be so cold as to use her if it could put her in danger and made his brother promise to let him go and be happy, which meant he’d gone into the cage with the same kind heart she’d known he had. After chatting with Dean a little while longer and learning about his new family, she smiled and got up from the table. With no other options left, she knew what she had to do and the longer she put it off, the more likely she was to chicken out. She paused long enough to scribble her phone number on a napkin and hand it to Dean before she kissed his forehead and told him to call if he needed anything. 

“You, too,” he said, tearing off the bottom portion of the napkin and giving her his number. “Anything. I may not be a hunter anymore, but you’re still family to me.” 

“Thanks, sugar,” she said, stuffing the napkin in her pocket and giving him a little wave as she headed for the door. She paused before she pushed it open and returned to the table with her bottom lip between her teeth. He looked up at her in question and she blew out a breath. “Do you still talk to the angel that pulled you out of the frying pan?” 

“Not really,” he said, a sad expression ghosting over his face. “Not since we lost Sam.” 

“What was his name?” she asked, wondering if she might have another option besides what she was planning originally. 

“Castiel,” he said. “Why?” 

“Just curious if he could help me with the Sam thing,” she said. “Do you have a summoning spell or something that I can use to get in touch with him?” 

“I always just pray,” he said simply. “He usually answers if he can.” 

She nodded, wondering if a Judeo-Christian angel would even hear her if she invoked the prayers of another pantheon, and kissed his forehead again before leaving to head back to the motel. She was deep in thought when she let herself into her room, but not so much that she didn’t notice the other heart beating nearby. Careful to stay as silent as possible, she closed the door and un-holstered her SIG. Holding her gun at the ready with the safety off, she moved towards the open door to the bathroom just as the toilet flushed and the sink turned on. She cocked the hammer when she heard the water turn off and the door started to open. With a curse, she disarmed the weapon and lowered it as Sam came out of the bathroom, drying his hand on a small towel. 

“Damn it, Sam,” she said, shaking her head as she put her gun away and set the holster down on the nightstand. “I could have shot you.” 

“Then you would have wounded me twice today,” he said as he tossed the hand towel into the sink in the bathroom and crossed his arms over his massive chest. 

“What are you talking about?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“I know you were with Dean,” he said tightly. “I thought I told you not to talk to him.” 

“You said not to tell him that you were alive and out of the cage,” she said. “Which I didn’t. But, I didn’t want to check in with him and make sure he was OK.” 

“And?” he asked. 

“Just stop,” she said, shaking her head as she moved to the small fridge in the kitchenette of the room to grab a beer. “You and I both know you’re a heartless bastard that doesn’t really give a shit and pretending otherwise is a waste of time.” 

“That’s cruel, little one,” he said as he followed her. “I do care.” 

“Could have fooled me,” she said as he took the bottle from her hand and popped it open before handing it back. “Every time I talk to you on the phone, it’s like talking to the Terminator. On Viagra. I don’t know if it’s an act to keep Campbell from seeing that you’re actually human and vulnerable, or if you really don’t care. Either way, it hurts. Especially when I know how badly Dean is feeling as a result of believing you’re dead. I love you, Sam. I really do. But if you can turn your back on Dean so easily, who’s to say I’m not fooling myself into believing you could ever love me back?” 

“The only reason I haven’t told Dean I’m alive is because he’s finally getting the chance to have the life I always wanted, and tried to have, but couldn’t hold on to,” Sam said, his naked honesty tugging at Emily’s heart. “But that doesn’t mean I’m incapable of emotion. I know you love me, little one,” he said, catching her under the chin with his finger and gently tilting her head up. “And I love you, too. When I’m here, with you, looking into your eyes and feeling the warmth of your skin, I can feel it all the way to my bones. You are one of the most important things in my life. Don’t ever doubt that.” 

He leaned down to capture her lips with his in a kiss that was so honest and true, it made her shiver as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Warmth spread through her as he held her tightly to his big frame and she felt her soul swelling to accommodate the emotions she felt from him. She laced the fingers of her free hand through the cool, silky length of his long brown hair as he kissed her and she felt him start to smirk against her lips. He knew what he was doing to her, making her bones go wobbly and her heart race, and he was enjoying it immensely. 

“Does this mean you forgive me for being mean?” she asked when he broke away from her lips to nibble on her neck and earlobe. 

“No,” he whispered in her ear with a chuckle. “I think you should apologize to me.” 

“I’m sorry,” she said breathlessly as his hand slid up into her shirt to squeeze her breast. 

“Not like that,” he said in a husky voice that sent shivers down her spine. “I think I deserve a proper apology,” he added and pulled back to take her beer from her hand. As he took a drink from it, he rested his hand on her shoulder and pushed gently, giving her the chance to say no before leading her down to her knees in front of him. “I want to feel these lips wrapped around my cock,” he said in a growl as he cupped her cheek and ran his thumb over her mouth. “Will you do that for me, little one?” 

She licked her lips as she looked up at him from the floor and watched as his eyes tracked the movement dreamily. She’d never attempted to please a man orally before, but excitement spun in her belly at the thought of tasting him the way he’d tasted her. Keeping her eyes on his, she ran her fingernails up his thighs over his jean, brushing her thumbnail against the hard length already pressing against the denim as it begged to be set free. He groaned and his eyelids fluttered a little when she touched him and she ran her hands around to his tight, round ass where she squeezed before pulling him close enough for her to reach. She slid her hands back around to his front and scratched upwards over his abs, making the muscles jump as she moved his shirt out of the way to run a line of kisses along the top of his waistband. When she felt him wrap her braid around his hand loosely, she grabbed the corner of his pants with her teeth and popped the button open with a smirk. Her eyes found his again as she buried her mouth against him, breathing heavily through the thick material against his length to tease him with what was to come. His hips rocked against the heat of her mouth and she captured the zipper with her teeth as she had the button, pulling it down before clawing his waistband down his hips with his boxers. His cock sprung free, bobbing proudly as she settled the material that had been caging it below his balls and ran the tip of her tongue along the underside from base to tip. 

The soft skin tasted warm and slightly salty, but it was purely Sam and it made her groan in pleasure. She steadied him with one hand as she ran her lips carefully along the side of his shaft as she made her way to the hollow of his hip and nipped him gently, making his legs clench. She looked back up at him, pleased to find him watching her raptly as she started to stroke him slowly. When she leaned back some and pressed a kiss to the swollen head, letting her tongue snake out to tease the seam on the underside, his eyes rolled back and he used his grip on her hair to pull her closer. She sucked the hot, spongy head of him into her mouth, curling her lips over her teeth to keep from scraping his sensitive skin and swirling her tongue around him as he started to set a pleasing rhythm. She used that hand she stroked him with to block him from thrusting deep enough to make her gag as she kneaded his ass with the other. Every now and then, she pushed back against his grip to pull him out of her mouth before sucking him back in again because she loved the noises he made when she did. She took her time with him, drawing out the mounting tension as long as she could before she dropped a little lower on her knees to allow him deeper into her throat. She hadn’t expected to have his pleasure affect her as much as it did, but before she knew it, she was aching and wanting to feel him inside her below the belt. She moaned with him deep in her mouth, sending vibrations shimmying up his length and making him pull her tighter to him. She felt his thighs clench as the sound of him setting the beer bottle down of the fridge quickly preceded the slap of his hand down to steady himself. His body curled over her as the first of the hot jets splashed against her tongue and he barked out a harsh curse as he came. She smiled as she continued to milk him with her mouth, drawing out every drop of what he could give until his legs were shaking and he started to go soft. When she was done, she swallowed everything he’d given her and pressed a mischievous kiss to the hypersensitive head of his penis. 

“So,” she said, smiling up at his blissed out, dazed expression, “am I forgiven, Master?” 


End file.
